Recovery
by dollsom
Summary: Dean doesn't know if he can rebuild his relationship with Castiel. All he knows is, he doesn't want to lose him again
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: implied torture

Ships/Characters: Dean/Cas, Sam

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and I make no profit from this.

Spoilers: This is based on spoilers for upcoming episodes in season seven.

Author's note: A few scenes of things that I'd like to see happen on Supernatural, kind of strung into a story. I might continue with it, I might not.

Summary: Dean doesn't know if he can rebuild his relationship with Castiel. All he knows is, he doesn't want to lose him again.

* * *

><p>It was getting dark when Dean found nearly a block's worth of forclosed-on houses on the wrong side of town. He chose one to stay the night, and was hiding the stolen car in the garage when Sam called from the mental hospital.<p>

"So, was it, you know… Cas?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. Yeah, it was." Dean had been excited when he first recognized Cas in the institution. Fuck it, even a little glad. He didn't want to let himself trust Cas again, couldn't let himself. But a part of him wanted to. Wanted to believe that this meant that his luck was turning around. Cas could fix Sam, could help them. A tiny part of him, a part that Dean tried to crush as much as possible, even hoped that this meant he would, maybe, get his friend back.

So much for that.

"How'd things go?"

"Not so good, Sam." Dean put the car in park, feeling exhausted.

"What happened?" A worried tone crept into Sam's voice.

"Well, for starters, he didn't remember a damn thing. Didn't even know he _was_ an angel. Then _Meg_ shows up-"

"Oh my god, Dean-"

"It's okay, Sam. Well, not for Cas' roommate. She killed him. Then Cas smote her-"

"I thought he didn't know he was an angel?"

"It was reflexive, or something, I don't know." Dean sighed, and got out of the car. "_He_ obviously didn't know what he did, 'cause he freaked right the hell out. Panicked, and flew off."

"How? Where?"

"I don't know where he went," Dean said, pulling down the garage door.

"Heaven." An unfamiliar voice said behind him.

Dean spun around. The voice belonged to a tall woman with a stern, regal face, black hair and olive skin. An angel, judging by the suit she wore. But instead of the usual crisp look seemingly favoured by the Host of Heaven, she was worn and dishevelled. There were shadows under her eyes, but the eyes themselves were alert and bright. Too bright, Dean thought. Crazed.

She stood in the middle of the lawn. About half a dozen other angels, similarly harassed-looking, stood a good few metres behind her. They seemed to form an audience, watching the scene with expressions that ranged from stoic to eager. One stood next to her, a stockier man with a grim face. In his hands was a chain that would have seemed heavy if it did not also look like it was made of moonlight. The end of the chain was attached to Castiel's neck.

"Call you back, Sam." Dean hung up.

Castiel. On his knees, barefoot and shirtless, hands bound behind his back. His torso was bruised and bloody, and he stared at the ground, dazed and unfocused. He was swaying, unbalanced, and if the wind picked up he might have toppled over.

"Can you imagine our surprise, Dean Winchester, when, after slaughtering half of our brothers and sisters, and pretending at godhood, Castiel returned to Heaven, claiming he remembered nothing?" the angel wearing the regal-looking woman, and who was apparently in charge, said.

Dean felt sick. He knew Castiel had done wrong, goddamn he knew. In a just world, he would deserve to be punished. But seeing his friend like this (because, fuck it, Cas had been his friend for too long for Dean to think of him as anything else, unless he convinced himself that Cas was dead and it was something else running around, playing God), it made Dean want to smash in a few faces. But he was outnumbered, and these were angels. So all Dean did was say, "He's telling the truth. He really doesn't remember."

The angel raised her eyebrows. "He does now."

Dean's eyes darted to the prisoner. "Cas?" he asked tentatively.

Castiel raised his face slowly, as if it hurt to do so. He met Dean's gaze, his eyes burdened with guilt and remorse, and silently mouthed Dean's name. It was true.

Dean's outrage was starting to burn away his logic and self-preservation. He strode across the driveway to the lawn. "Whatever you sons of bitches are up to, you'd better-"

An invisible force slammed into Dean, shoving him against the wall of the house and holding him there.

"Better what?" the angel asked cooly.

"Let him go!" Dean roared.

"Patience," she said. "We haven't finished his punishment yet."

"You want me to watch?" he snarled, understanding blending into disgust.

"Of course, Dean Winchester," she said, and began circling around her captive. "This wouldn't be nearly so painful for Castiel if you weren't here to witness it."

She started chanting in Enochian. Dean had no idea what the words meant, but Castiel did, snapping into awareness as he realized what was about to happen to him.

"No…" He stared at the black-haired angel pleadingly as she walked around him. "No, please, no… no no no…" he whimpered. The angels who had gathered to watch began to laugh. "Sister, _please_!" The fear in Castiel's voice was so raw that Dean ached to go to him, fighting uselessly against his invisible bonds. The burly angel tugged at the chain, briefly choking Castiel into silence. The other angels jeered.

After that, Castiel seemed to know that it would do no good to beg or struggle. He stared blankly ahead, trembling.

The whole thing was sick and twisted, and Dean hated being powerless to stop it. He was trying to figure out how to take on ten angels single-handed when something happened.

The air around Castiel began to shimmer. Dean saw shadows, outlines. Then the chanting stopped, and Castiel's wings spread open.

They were massive, at least twice as wide across as Castiel was tall, curving gracefully down to his back. It was as if the feathers were spun from pure energy, golden sunshine and blue bolts of electricity, there was a faint hum in the air, and they gave off a light all their own. They bathed Castiel in their unearthly light, and for a moment Dean forgot that he was beaten and chained. Even as the wings twitched and shivered, and Castiel tried to fold them in protectively, he was awe-inspiring, mesmerizing. It was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever seen.

The black-haired angel grasped one of the wings near where it sprouted from Castiel's shoulder, and drew her blade. Dean realized what would happen next.

"NO!" he shouted, vainly.

An anguished cry cut through the night, more animal than human, accompanied by a burst of light. Castiel curled in on himself, shaking violently, one wing twitching weakly, the other a scorched and ragged stump, a silhouette of ash on the ground.

The small crowd of angels shouted taunts and cheered. The black-haired angel wore a look of grim satisfaction as she reached for Castiel's other wing. Dean thought he was going to throw up, but he couldn't look away. Another burst of light, and a wrecked sob escaped Castiel's throat.

The angels disappeared. Suddenly straining against nothing, Dean toppled to the ground. He quickly got to his feet and rushed to where Castiel was lying on lawn, arms and knees pulled in to his chest. "Cas! Cas, look at me!" He didn't respond. His eyes were glassy, and his skin was deathly pale. Light bled out of what was left of his wings, and blood trickled from between his lips. But he was breathing, ragged and irregular. "Cas!" Dean tried again, to no avail. A glow started to build between Castiel's lips, and light started to seep from his mouth, along with the blood.

_He's dying_, Dean realized. Against the rising wave of helplessness, Dean mentally rifled through his first-aid knowledge. Of course, none of it applied to an angel who was bleeding out grace.

"Talk to me, Cas, you gotta tell me what to do," Dean said, desperation in his voice.

"S-sorry… I'm sorry Dean…"

"Fuck, you can apologize after you don't die!" _This isn't happening, not again._ "Tell me how to help you!"

Then Dean remembered. "My soul… Touch my soul, Cas."

Castiel shook his head faintly against the ground, so Dean grabbed his hand and pressed it to his solar plexus. Cas tried to pull away, but Dean held fast.

"No… too dangerous," Cas choked out with much effort. "I'd kill us both…"

"This isn't a conversation, Cas! Do it!"

A scalding, white-hot pain flooded Dean's senses. He could feel Castiel next to him, feel his mutilated grace huddling up to his soul. For comfort in it's dying moments, not healing.

The pain was searing, and Dean was tempted to give in and pass out. But he focused through the pain. He concentrated, imagined his soul spinning out in threads, using it to stitch up the angel's wounds. He imagined his soul as hands, putting Castiel's grace back together as best he could, holding it to his chest, warming it until shone brightly, happy and loved.

Then he blacked out.

* * *

><p>Dean woke up, and knew he was in a hospital bed. He opened his eyes to confirm, and saw a face etched with worry less than a foot from his own.<p>

"Sam?" Dean croaked.

"He's awake!" Sam grinned.

"I'll get the doctor," Dean heard Castiel's voice from further away, but was too dazed to focus on him.

Dean looked to his brother. "How'd you get here?"

"Cas signed me out for the day. What happened?"

"Cas didn't tell you?"

"Just that you'd done something stupid. Which, being you, could've been anything."

Dean rolled his eyes as the doctor entered the room. "Later."

The doctor had a hard time saying what was wrong with Dean, except for the fact that something most certainly had been wrong. But now it looked like he was going to make a full recovery.

"So, what happened?" Sam asked again once the doctor left.

"Well, Cas…" Dean paused and looked around. "Where is Cas?"

"I haven't seen him since he went for the doctor."

That worried Dean. "How'd he seem to you? Was he depressed, or guilty, or-"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged. "He was worried about you."

"Okay, I gotta go find him," Dean fought against a wave of dizziness as he tried to push himself out of bed, and then a set of strong hands on his shoulders pushing him back down.

"Whoa, whoa… I'll find him okay?" Sam said. "Could you just tell me what happened first? Real fast?"

Dean sighed and started talking as fast as possible. "Cas flew back to heaven, the other angels were super-pissed at him, they tortured him until he remembered everything, brought him down here, cut off his wings-"

"What?" Sam interjected.

"Yeah, it was…" It was taking Dean too long to find words to describe the experience, so he just shook his head and continued. "The angels left him to bleed out, he touched my soul, I blacked out and here I am."

"You let him touch your soul?" Sam said with incredulity.

"No, I forced him to."

"That has to be done carefully," Sam was pulling a major bitch-face now. "Not by an angel in shock. You could have died."

"But I didn't," Dean shrugged.

"Jesus, Dean…" Sam shook his head at his brother's cavalier attitude, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Now could you please find the guy? He's gotta be pretty depressed after something like that, and I don't want him alone."

"Yeah, okay." Sam left.

Dean wondered what he would say to Cas. That he forgave him? That everything was okay now? It wasn't. Dean still didn't know if he could trust Cas not to go off and do something stupid because he thought it was a good idea, or not to lie to him for whatever dumb-shit reason he came up with. Dean knew Cas had lied to him about Crowley because he was trying to protect him, because he was trying to do the right thing. And that was the scary part. If Cas knew it was wrong but did it anyways, that was one thing, but if Cas _really_ thought that was okay, then how could Dean _ever_ trust him? Maybe he had known it was wrong. They'd have to talk. Dean didn't know if things could be right with him and Cas, but he did know he wanted the chance to try.

Dean heard Sam's voice outside the door. "Look, he _wants_ to see you."

He could make out a mumbled response, and called out, "Cas, is that you?"

The angel shuffled into the room, avoiding Dean's gaze. Dean caught Sam's eye, signalling with a tilt of his head that he should close the door and wait outside. Sam complied.

Castiel looked uneasy when the door clicked shut.

"Come on, sit down." Dean indicated a chair near the bed. Cas just leaned against the wall near the door.

"You should _not _have even attempted-"

"What? Saving your life?" Dean was indignant at the tone Cas took with him.

"It's a miracle you weren't killed!"

"Exactly, I wasn't killed, so you can calm down about it now."

"You think this is funny?" Cas stepped towards the bed. "I would rather die than-"

"Well I'd rather you didn't!"

They stared at each other intently for a moment before Castiel's gaze dropped to the floor.

"I'm too weak to heal Sam," Cas said quietly.

Dean nodded. "I figured." But it was still a blow to hear his suspicion confirmed.

"I'm not sure how much of my power I retain. I don't know how much I can help you."

Dean looked at him askance. "I'm sure there's something."

Cas nodded. "I'll let you get some rest now." He turned to go.

"Cas, wait." Castiel paused.

Maybe he thought that Dean could never forgive him. Maybe he thought that all Dean ever appreciated him for was how useful he could be. Dean decided that he wasn't going to let him leave thinking either of those things.

"There is something you can do for me."

Castiel turned and approached the bed.

Dean licked his lips and swallowed. It was always hard to be the one to take the first step. "See, I lost my best friend a while ago, and I… I want him back."

Castiel seemed confused, and for a moment Dean thought that he would have to explain to the guy that he was talking about him. Then there was a spark of understanding in Castiel's eyes. He blinked at Dean, surprised.

"Think you could help?" Dean asked hopefully.

A slight smile pulled at the corners of Castiel's mouth, and he nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean and Sam showed up unexpectedly at Castiel's door one morning about four months after he walked away from them.

Of course he invited them in. Of course he said he'd help them with their hunt. That's what he'd told them when he'd left, "If you're ever in need of my help, don't hesitate to ask."

Cas ushered the brothers into what passed for the living room of the dingy little apartment that he managed to afford with at string of shitty jobs. The two of them sat on a threadbare second-hand couch, and Cas pulled up a rickety wooden chair from the kitchen, shoving old take-out containers off the coffee table to make room for Sam's laptop. He still didn't have to eat like a human, but every now and then, Cas would get painfully hungry.

He noticed Dean staring at him, and realized that he must look quite different to him now, in his work jeans and an old t-shirt from a thrift store, instead of his familiar suit and overcoat.

The boys were hunting a spirit, but they couldn't figure out what it was tied to. Castiel was doing his best to pay attention to the details of the case, but his gaze kept drifting from the laptop to Dean, his mind back to the day he made his decision.

* * *

><p><em>Sam, Dean, and Castiel sat in a booth at a bar that was clean and full of people and playing good music. They were celebrating. <em>

_Richard Roman was dead, partially thanks to Castiel. Sam was on his way to recovery, no thanks to Castiel whatsoever._

_They each had a beer in front of them, and the table was littered with shot glasses. Dean was in a fit of ecstasy over the nachos they were sharing, and Sam was laughing his head off over the cheese that was hanging from his brother's lips. Cas tried to smile. _

_He ached to spread his wings and fly away, fly anywhere, around the world and back again, just for the sake of it. But his wings were gone. He had to remind himself, because he could still feel them there sometimes, but they were gone. That didn't stop them from hurting, though. Sending bolts of pain rocketing through the body he was now bound to. Reminding him that, even though this was a night of victory, that he was a failure, he was nothing now. The only thing that killing Dick Roman meant to Cas was that he might be able to die with some small measure of peace now, having dispatched the most powerful of the monsters he had set loose on the world. _

_"Man, when we get back, I'm gonna sleep for a week." Dean was saying. "Hey, how about we go see the Grand Canyon?"_

_Sam grinned. "It's about time. We've been talking about it long enough."_

_Castiel remembered when he was first stationed on earth, diving through the air, zipping between the red walls of stone, skimming across the surface of the river that carved them, and soaring back into the clouds. He had savoured existing on a plane where time and space meant something, where flying meant something different than it had in heaven. _

_His wings burned. Castiel felt sick. He rose from the table. "I'll see you back at the motel."_

_Dean's tipsy grin was replaced by a look of concern. Something else for Castiel to feel guilty about. "Don't worry about me," he said, before Dean could ask._

_"Phantom pain?" Sam asked, and Cas nodded. _

_"We'll come with you," Dean said, reaching for his jacket._

_"No, I don't want you to stop enjoying yourselves on my account." Castiel appreciated that Dean wanted to help him, he really did. The sign of friendship was more than Cas could have hoped for, after everything he'd done. But Dean really had no idea how to help, no idea what Cas was going through, and more often than not ended up being suffocating rather than supportive. "I'd rather be alone right now."_

_"You sure?" Dean asked skeptically. Cas nodded._

_"Look after yourself," Sam said as a goodbye._

_Castiel went back to the motel, downed a bottle of pain killers, and lay on the couch in the dark, wanting more than anything to fall asleep. But angels don't sleep. Castiel didn't know what he was anymore._

* * *

><p>They decided that Sam and Dean would dig for more clues from the families of the victims, and Castiel, who had already worked a couple of cases in the city and knew his way around the town hall and reference library, would look into local history.<p>

Castiel was looking for a murder-suicide committed using some sort of poison. It was a medium-sized city with records that went back to it's founding, so he found a couple of potential culprits. He was trying to narrow the field when he got a phone call from Dean.

"You can come on back, Cas, this spook ain't local."

"You're sure?"

"It hitched it's way in on an antique locket, with a bit of hair inside. All the vics were carrying it when they died."

"You and Sam have it now?"

There was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line. "It got lost after the last death. Sam's staking out the house where it happened, he'll call us when he thinks it's safe for us to go in and do a search."

Castiel was starting to wish that he hadn't told Sam and Dean that they could stay over at his place. He didn't know how he would handle being alone with Dean

* * *

><p><em>Sam was drunk off his face when he came in. Dean was tipsy, but still coherent. <em>

_"Cas!" Sam exclaimed when he flipped on the light and saw him stretched out on the couch. "You missed out on a good time tonight, man!"_

_"I'm glad you had fun," Castiel replied, staring at the ceiling._

_"I killed Dean at pool. Killed him. You should've seen it."_

_"I was going easy on him," Dean defended. "Thought it might help his self-esteem to let him win once in a while."_

_"He was trying to impress this girl too, it was so funny." Sam started to laugh. _

_"Sounds entertaining," Cas said, without conviction. _

_"I'm gonna take shower," Sam announced. _

_"You're going to bed," Dean countered. "You're drunk. After everything we've been through, I'll be damned if I let you get killed by a slippery floor."_

_"I'm not that drunk," Sam said, stumbling as he let Dean guide him past the decorative screen dividing the the room and into bed. A minute later, Castiel heard Sam snoring. _

_Dean slumped into the chair next to the couch. "This was a good night."_

_"So I gathered."_

_"Would've been better if you were there, though."_

_Castiel didn't believe him. He sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. Dean looked relaxed and happy, and for a moment Cas considered saving this talk for later. But the question of what he was going to do with his life had been weighing on him for so long, he didn't think he could bear it alone for much longer. _

_"I'm going to leave tomorrow."_

_The sobering effect was immediate. "Leaving?"_

_"Going away," Cas said, as if Dean was asking for clarification. _

_Dean leaned forward in his chair. "Why? What's going on, Cas? Is there something you're not telling me?"_

_"No," Cas said assertively. Of course Dean's first thought was that Castiel was hiding something from him. Cas shrugged off his hurt at that. "I just… I don't belong in your life." _

_"You're my friend, of course you do."_

_"Like a brother?" Dean nodded. The title was more than Castiel deserved, but something about it felt unsatisfying to him, incomplete. "No, not like this."_

_"Like what?"_

_"What I am!" Castiel was getting more emotional than he had planned. "I don't know what I am Dean. I don't know how to live like this. I'm a burden."_

_Dean moved from the chair to the couch, sitting next to Castiel. "That's not true. You help us a lot."_

_"While imposing on you and your brother." Everything that Cas had kept locked inside himself since he regained his memories came spilling out. "I wanted to make everything better, I wanted to fix things. I wanted to do so much for you and Sam, and I can't. I'm nothing like this."_

_"Cas!" Dean took Castiel's face between his hands and turned him so their eyes met. "You're not nothing." _

_Again, Castiel didn't believe him. He thought that Dean must not really believe it either, because something like doubt or indecision played across his face._

_But then Dean kissed him. _

* * *

><p>Before that night, the thought of kissing Dean had never occurred to Castiel. He loved Dean with everything he was, but he had never felt the desire to show it physically. And at that time, the kiss itself didn't change anything.<p>

After he went off on his own, Castiel had let a few women, and a couple of men, pick him up. From Dean he had gotten the impression that, when living among humans, sexual intercourse was something that one should engage in. It was fun enough, he supposed. He was certain he was doing everything right, especially after the first couple of times, based on what his partners had said and the fact that they left him their telephone numbers. But it wasn't something that he felt a lot of enthusiasm for.

Occasionally, Castiel imagined what it would be like to make love with Dean. He imagined the satisfaction that would come with making Dean moan his name with pleasure. He imagined Dean wanting to do the same for him, and just the thought of Dean caring about him like that was enough to make his heart beat faster and his cock semi-hard. Cas eventually realized that while he wasn't much interested in sex in general, as a way of loving Dean, it was definitely something he wanted.

He didn't realize how badly he wanted it until he returned to his apartment to find Dean waiting in the lobby with a friendly smile and a bag of Chinese take-out.

"Hey!" Dean called, by way of greeting. "Brought dinner!"

Castiel wasn't hungry, but decided to be gracious. "Thank you."

"How long you been living here?" Dean asked as they got into the elevator.

Cas shrugged. "Month and a half."

Dean nodded. An awkward silence filled the elevator car, and decided to follow along after they left and walked along the dimly-lit hallway to Castiel's door. When they got in, Cas resisted the urge to throw the food aside and pin Dean against the wall.

Dean set the take-out on the kitchen table, and started removing packages of food. "I guess that means you've got a job?"

"A couple," Cas said as he sat down. Dean sat down across from him, and gave him a look like he expected him to elaborate. "Moving boxes three days a week and waiting tables on weekends."

"Good thing we caught you on your day off," Dean said, grabbing a carton of orange chicken. He raised his chopsticks to his mouth and nodded in approval. He passed the box to Castiel. It was alright. Cas chewed slowly as Dean tried a bit of everything else.

"Meet any hot waitresses?" Dean asked casually.

Cas was afraid he was blushing. "I haven't really had the chance to get to know anyone yet," he explained.

Dean nodded again. An acknowledgement, not showing interest. He was just making small-talk, Cas told himself. He didn't mean anything by the question, he couldn't.

* * *

><p><em>The kiss was soft, but sure, and it was the last thing Castiel expected. <em>

_He shot to his feet, almost stumbling over the coffee table as he backed away from Dean. _

_"Shit," Dean muttered to himself. "Look, Cas, I um…" he shifted uncomfortably on the couch. _

_"Why did you do that?" Castiel demanded. He knew what kissing generally meant to people, that it was a sign of love and affection. He also knew what it meant to Dean, that it was something he did with women he would never see again. In this context, he didn't know what it meant at all. _

_"I thought you…" Dean was blushing and avoiding Castiel's gaze. "Dick said that he found out from your thoughts that I'm the most important man in the world." _

_"You are, to me." Castiel still didn't know why Dean had kissed him, but apparently there was some confusion about his thoughts on Dean. He clarified, "You have been since I first saw you in Hell, as The Righteous Man, even thought I didn't know yet how truly significant you would become. You turned Heaven and Earth upside down, you changed everything for me. And you are my dearest friend."_

_Dean slid a hand across his face and through his hair. "But not in 'that way'," he muttered to himself, and Cas wondered what "way" he meant. "Look, just forget that I… kissed you, okay? It was a mistake."_

_"I'm confused," Castiel said honestly. _

_"I want you around, okay?" Dean said, apparently losing patience. He rose to his feet and stood in front of Cas, looking at him intently. "You understand that, right? I don't care if you've got powers or not, I don't care if you need help adjusting. I'm your friend, I'll help you through it. And I don't care if you think you 'don't belong' in my life, because I want you in it." _

_Looking into Dean's eyes, bright with intensity, Castiel almost crumbled. He would do nearly anything for Dean. He could stay with him. Even if it meant feeling useless and burdensome, like an outsider, an interloper in the brothers' partnership. _

_But something inside him rebelled at the thought. Told him that Dean's patience with him wouldn't last, that Dean wouldn't want him around forever, and that if he didn't leave now, he would be able to bring himself to later. _

_"I'm sorry Dean," Castiel said, and he would never forget the look of bereavement that filled his friend's eyes, before being shuttered by resignation. "I have to do this on my own."_

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean kept in touch with Castiel after he left. Sam gave Cas tips on finding places to stay and getting work. At first Dean's calls were cut short and laced with bitterness, just trying to tap some of his expertise for whatever case he was working at the moment. But as time went on, Castiel realized that he didn't need to strike out on his own to get away from Dean, but to prove to himself that he could. Dean must have realized the same thing, or picked up on Castiel's change in attitude, because his bitterness eventually faded, and it was as though that night in the motel had never happened.<p>

Except for the kiss. It plagued Castiel's mind every time he got close to Dean, every time he looked at him.

Cas cleared the table and threw out the take-out containers under the sink. When he turned around, Dean was standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen.

"Can I, um, ask you something?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"Of course."

"This is probably a stupid question, but, uh… do you, ever…"

Dean's nervous gestures were too similar to how he behaved on _that_ night for Castiel to think that he was talking about anything else. "You told me to forget about it."

Dean blinked in surprise before answering, "Yeah, I did."

"I can't."

The corner of Dean's mouth twitched up, and Cas wanted to claim those lips for his own. "Yeah?"

"You said it was a mistake," Castiel reminded him, even as Dean stepped closer. Whatever happened between them now, Cas didn't want it to be another mistake.

"I'm not sure it was anymore," Dean said carefully, taking another step towards Cas. He licked his lips. They glistened. "Cas, I-"

Castiel couldn't stand the overwhelming sense of want anymore. He closed the remaining space between them, fisted a hand in Dean's shirt, and pushed him backwards until he hit the wall. Dean's eyes were wide with shock as Cas clamped a hand on the back of his neck and pulled Dean into a furious kiss. Dean's lips were soft and welcoming, and Cas teased them with his tongue before pressing into his mouth, tasting whiskey and orange sauce. Then Cas felt hands on his waist, and Dean was kissing back, and the rest of the world melted away. He felt he could live in this moment for the rest of his life and be happy.

Dean broke it off, gasping for breath. "Jeez, Cas…"

"I love you," Castiel said, because it was all he could say, all he was thinking.

At those words, a hungry fire lit behind Dean's eyes. He swung Cas around, and Castiel's back hit the wall hard, and then Dean's lips were on his own, pressing and urgent, Dean's tongue caressing his mouth.

"Say that again," Dean whispered.

Cas pulled Dean's head down so that he could brush his lips against his ear. "I love you," he growled.

Dean's kisses were hot on Castiel's neck, and he shivered as Dean's hands slid underneath his shirt, against his bare skin. He imagined all the ways that he would show Dean how much he loved him.

A tinny guitar riff broke through their sighs. Dean's phone. He cursed under his breath, stepped away from Castiel, and answered.

"Sammy? Uh huh? We'll be right over." He hung up and turned to Cas. "It's go-time."

As he grabbed his jacket and headed towards the door, Cas wondered to himself exactly what this meant, and if it really changed anything between him and Dean.

"We can finish this later, right?" Dean said with a sly grin, lips swollen from kissing, pupils still blown with arousal.

Castiel decided that he could wait and see.


End file.
